


You can’t Weld a Body

by pickingupellen



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Bonding, Captain America: The First Avenger, Guide Bucky, M/M, Sentinel Steve, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickingupellen/pseuds/pickingupellen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steven Grant Rogers comes from a long line of Guides but he was born to be a Sentinel<br/>At 5 he is infected with scarlet fever.<br/>By 6 a long list of infections have robbed him of most of his hearing.<br/>He hits 7 as his spine twists and his hips cant.<br/>For his 8th birthday Death visits but gifts him with life.<br/>An 11 year old Steve meets James Buchanan ‘Bucky' Barnes, a boy from a long line of Normals who burst online as a Guide when Steve waded into a fight.<br/>15 arrives and, when not even his mother’s death proves enough of a stressor, Steve is written off as Dormant. James vows that he will never leave his side, that he will wait forever for Steve.</p><p>The years crawl by in a mix of scraping by and sickness. War overtakes Europe and then the world, every ‘strong backed man and healthy Sentinel’ is called to defend the world. But Steve, desperate to join up, is repeatedly turned down even as ‘his’ Guide is conscripted. By time Bucky returns from boot camp Steve is ready to do anything to join him. Even if it means losing control of his own body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Helen Luis (BindingDiva) for the beta.

 

Georgie slammed a fist into Steve’s face, careful to avoid breaking anything, and waited as he crashed into the wall at the end of the alley. She sighed and rolled her eyes as the skinny man spat blood onto the filthy alley floor, pulled his hands back up, and rolled his shoulders before aiming a roundhouse at her.She swayed to one side with ease, letting the fist slide past her before grabbing Steve’s wrist and shoving him back into the wall again. As she stepped forward to shove him to his knees, Steve kicked out at her legs. She hissed in shock as he connected hard with the side of her knee. Taking advantage of the hit Steve rolled to his feet and punched out at her ribs.

Georgie growled as he managed to hit her again, and with a firm blow knocked Steve off his feet and into the nearest trashcan, a harsh crack sounding out as he landed awkwardly. She moved to stand directly over him, and feet planted on either side of his hips, she grinned at him as she waited for him acknowledge her dominance.

As she waited instinct won out and she tilted her head to listen to the uneven pounding of his heart and the rasping edge as breath caught in his lungs. Need to protect her urban pack winning out over her desire to beat the shit out of Steve for challenging her. Unwilling to actually risk killing the only other Sentinel left in Brooklyn, even if he was dormant, she stepped back, leaving him sprawled in the mud, and turned to leave.

A rattle of metal and a painful sounding gasp had her turning back.

“Oh, come on, Steve! You really wanna go around this again?” she snarled as he defiantly lifted the trashcan lid in his hand and charged at her.

Hooking a hand behind the lid she heaved it out of his grip and grabbed him around the throat. Georgie prowled forward until they were pressed tight together, Steve’s back hard against the wall. She tilted her head and leant forward so she was speaking directly into his good ear.

“Look, Steve, I get it. It’s not fair, but challenging me isn’t going to fix you! You can’t fight your way into coming online, that’s not how it works.”

She paused to take a deep breath and get control of her urge to shout. “You want to protect the world, I get that and I can’t imagine how much it must hurt to have an Alpha Sentinel’s instinct trapped in a broken body. But keep challenging me when the boys are overseas and you won’t live to see Barnes come home. You hearing me?”

She lent back and glared at Steve, waiting for him to give in.

 

Hearing familiar, but long absent, footsteps heading down the alley she let go of Steve as he slowly nodded, leaning back into the wall as the man behind Georgie got close enough for Steve to see.

She carefully stepped out of the way before she could be shoved.

“Barnes,” she acknowledged as the man in question ignored her entirely in favour of running delicate hands over Steve. She watched carefully, backing down the alley quickly, as the Guide went from nearly 6 foot of fussing mother hen, to angry soldier when he reached the rib she had heard snap earlier.

“I’d have thought you woulda known by now to pick on someone your own size, sweetheart.” Bucky said coldly moving towards her.

“Well, everyone in my league was out of town and Stevie seemed a little bored. If I knew you were going to be home today I’d have waited longer to get my kicks.” Georgie shot back trying to lighten the mood, completely unwilling to get into a pissing contest with an angry Guide.

“Really?”

Georgie sighed in relief at Barnes’ soft exclamation and the light whack to the back of the head that her words earned Steve. She shrugged at Barnes as he frowned at her.

“Go find someone else to knock about with. Steve ain’t up for your kind of brawling.” Barnes huffed at her even as Steve protested.

Georgie grinned at him. “Anytime you want a good ‘brawl’ you just give me a bell, Barnes,” she purred as she backed down the alley, using one hand to map his outline in the air as she blew a kiss at him. “I’ll give any Guide a helping hand. Anytime.”

“Sure, next time I wanna try a VD for size I’ll hop right on that, Georgie.” Bucky replied sharply before turning his back and starting to fuss over Steve again.

“Well, you ever decide you want to play around with a real Sentinel you just let me know, Barnes, and I’ll set you right up.” She carefully straightened her Home Guard uniform and gave Steve a firm look as he glanced around Barnes to watch her leave.

 

Bucky stared down at the 5 foot 4 bundle of attitude that was his best friend and sighed. Steve was hunched, back clearly hurting as much as his pride - not that the stubborn little shit would admit to either of those hurts. His nose was bloody, a steady stream down his worryingly pale skin. A bruise already setting on his forehead with a deep purple cast.

With a sigh Bucky reached down and picked up an off-white piece of paper that had been half mashed into a puddle during the fight. Without even looking at it he waved it at Steve and asked, “Who were you today? Stevie Rogers from Paramus?” He peeled the folded paper open and laughed when he turned out to be correct. “You do realise that if you get found out you’re going to be in a whole pile of trouble.”

Steve laughed before bitterly spitting, “No, they figure out who I really am and all they’ll do is send me home with a slapped wrist and a note on some file somewhere to say I’m ‘a fucked up Sentinel going over the top to get to a fight.’ Hell, maybe there already is and they are just humouring me by not letting on that they know who I am.”

Bucky slung an arm over Steve’s shoulder and pulled him tight in response to the frustration in his voice. He tugged him out of the alley and down the road to the crumbling tenement they called home. Barnes indulged in the almost habitual pause on the 3rd floor before dragging a still wheezing Steve up two more flights of stairs and into their dank little apartment.

Pushing him into the less creaky of the two kitchen chairs Bucky began to fuss. Tipping the room warm water out of the jug on the side, he gathered a cloth and a dash of Mercurochrome to wash out the cuts. He muttered light-hearted insults as he pushed Steve’s head from side to side to inspect the idiot’s wounds.

“You never did have a sense for trouble. Mind you, I always figured you lost your mind when you lost your hearing.”

Steve huffed at him and reached up to tug the cloth out of Bucky’s hand, pressing it to the still leaking cut on his forehead so that Bucky had his hands free to begin fussing over the broken rib. Years of practice made the routine of fixing up Steve easy.

“I’m not always gonna be here to save you,” Bucky eventually muttered as he started to ease into the edges of Steve’s mind so that he could touch and soften the bite of pain.

“I never did ask you to save me, you bust in there all on your own. ‘Sides I should be the one sending people running for you.” Steve twitched suddenly, flinching out from under Bucky’s hands as he narrowed his eyes before reaching up and whacking Bucky with deceptively strong, lean, artist’s hands. “Stop focusing in on my pain before you drift off on it!” he snapped.

“Don’t you go lecturing me, had enough of that from your mom,” Bucky snarked back as he tore the sleeve off of the shirt he had peeled Steve out of. Carefully folding it in half, he twitched a shield up sharply, knowing his eyes went a little dead as he did.

“Well you should-a listened the first time round. It’s just not right that I have to tell you a dead lady’s words” Steve snarked at him as Bucky rolled his eyes and slumped against the bathtub table top in the centre of their kitchen. He watched for a moment as Steve tried to mop the blood off his face with the back of his hand. After a moment he dipped the shirtsleeve into the water beside him and knocked Steve’s hand out of the way.

The blood finally stopped flowing, and as Steve stripped out of his undershirt Bucky took it from him and dumped it in the last of the water, in the hope of soaking the stain out before it set.

Steve tugged on a fresh shirt. Bucky lent back to watch him change, fiddling with the buttons on his uniform jacket saying, “I ship out in the morning, around 0300, I have to be at the dock for midnight. I figured we could make a dash for the Expo. I know you wanted to go and I wanna see what Stark has to offer. It’s always a laugh right?”

Steve’s actions stuttered to a halt as Bucky spoke. After a long moment Steve moved to lean next to him, resting against him slightly as he softly murmured, “I thought they would let you stay a little longer. I guess… If you want to go out we can. Not like we can afford anything decent to stay in for right?”

Bucky carefully wrapped his arm around Steve and tugged him close.  
They sat in silence as the June evening rolled in, until eventually Bucky rose to his feet, stretching out his back before offering Steve a hand and tugging his oldest friend to his feet.

“Come on, I’ll even buy you dinner and a drink after I force you to follow me around the stalls,” Bucky offered as Steve rose to his feet with a wince and more than one loud crack, years of high fevers and infections showing in the careful movements. Bucky carefully tugged his shields up, looped an arm over Steve’s shoulders and with a grin tugged him from the apartment.

\---

“So when I get back I was thinking I could get off the dock work, spend all my time fixing up engines instead of just picking up the odd shift.” he muttered, trying to draw Steve’s attention away from the army booth at the end of the fair.

“Sounds good. It pays better but you know maybe everyone is right, there’s gonna be a small mountain of Sentinels out there and you…” Steve huffed quietly prodding Bucky into one of the tents “You should take the time to find someone who suits. Get a real life ‘stead of looking after me all the time.”

Bucky glared at the smaller man even as he let himself be pushed into the tent. He grinned as he realised that the mechanic in the tent had spread out the guts of an engine and Barnes turned to get Steve to come look at it, sure that the other man would be able to sketch the parts out for him to practice naming when they got home. He span a full circle and realised Steve was gone. Sticking his head out of the booth he saw a skinny form heading to the army tent and with one last look at the engine he sighed and followed his friend.

“STEVE!” He yelled down the fairground, grinning when Steve jumped and looked at him like he had been caught sticking damp fingers in the sugar pot. He caught up quickly, his longer stride eating up the distance in no time.

“Steve how many times are you going to lie and get turned down? Until they catch you? And then what? You gonna try until they lock you up?”

“If I have to!” Steve snapped back at Bucky, quick and almost cold. “Bucky, I can’t lose you, I can’t just let you go out there. I have to keep trying.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment, “There is a war on, Steve, it’s not just some playground fight. I know it is killing you being kept out of it but it would kill you dead if they let you out there.”

The two men glared at each other for a while, Steve stubbornly and Bucky sadly.

 

”There are men laying down their lives. I’ve got no right to do any less than them.” Steve broke gaze with Bucky to look at the Uncle Sam poster behind him “That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me.”

”Right because you have nothing to prove?” Bucky snarled, finally annoyed. “Huh? Not a damn thing and you never have!”

”Not everything is about me not coming…” Steve started with a growl,

”Jesus, Steve, I wasn’t saying…” The pair’s words tripped over each other as both tried to get the last word in and silence the other.

”It’s fine for you, you get to go running to the front and take one of those real Sentinels up on…”

”You are all I have ever wanted!”

Finally Steve stopped arguing, he stood staring at Bucky with his mouth open slightly until he eventually gathered himself to coldly say, “Shame that it was just a dream, Buck.”

Bucky took a deep breath as Steve stepped forward and looked up at him. “I never was what you need.” Turning sharply Steve walked away.

“Don’t do anything stupid Steve” Bucky shouted after him.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve turned back with a grin, like always their harsh words almost instantly forgiven.

“You’re a punk.” Bucky said with a laugh, getting the familiar answer.

“Jerk”

Bucky quickly walked up and wrapped Steve in a bear hug muttering,  
“Be careful, Steve.”

“Yeah, well, don’t win the war until I get there!” Steve said finally pulling out of his arms and walking away for good.

Bucky watched him go slowly walking backwards, as Steve disappeared into the tent he muttered, “Couldn’t if I wanted”  
\- - -

Steve sat on the high table, clearly set for a taller man. He held his feet carefully still, not wanting them to swing and make him look smaller than he already was.

The curtain was pulled to one side as the Doctor walked in, tapping the brown file against his hand as he looked at Steve.

Rogers bit back a twitch as he realised the file was a little too fat to be the usually two pages of reasons to reject him.

The Doctor took a deep breath and opened the file, ran a finger down the top sheet and raised an eyebrow.

“Where are you from Mr Rogers? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

Steve held a hand up quickly cutting across the Doctor. “That might not be the right file.”

 

“Hmm? No, no. It is not the exams I am interested in… It is the five tries. Why try so hard when you know you will be rejected?”

Steve looked down at his feet as he tried to think of a good reply.

Before he could come up with something the doctor continued, “Yes, the urge to protect is there but this is something more. Tell me, do you just want to kill Nazis, Mr Rogers?”

“Is this a test?” Steve asked in a slightly offended tone,

“Yes.” The Doctor replied simply

“I don’t wanna kill anyone. I don’t like bullies.” Steve tried to explain, “Don’t matter where they are from.”

The doctor looked at him consideringly before offering him a hand. As Steve shook it the doctor looked him in the eye and said firmly,  
“Maybe what we need is the little guy, to end a war big men started.”

The doctor tugged a pen out of his pocket and dropped the file down to sign next to where it had already been stamped 1A. “Welcome to the Army, Mr Rogers.”

\- - -

“FALL IN!” Agent Carter yelled across the exercise field, where the newest recruits were carefully following the regime they had had barked at them an hour before.

Steve clambered to his feet from the worn patch of ground where he had been failing to carry out the perfect press up, and scrambled to join the line up.

Private Seath shifted uncomfortably and risked punishment to move down the line and away from him.

“Private, were you given permission to break rank?” The female agent growled as she prowled towards him,

”No, Ma’am,” he replied, straightening slightly more. In his position halfway down the line Steve shifted uncomfortably.

“Then get back in line,” she snapped.

“You can’t really expect a Guide to stand next to some Dormant freak, Miss,” one of the other privates drawled.

“I really can. And you would do well to remember your place, Private. Get back in line!” she snapped down the line without turning her head.

“Ma’am I would get you back in line any day,” burst out of the loudmouth’s gob before he could pull it back.

Seconds after he said it, Agent Carter motioned him closer with a finger. As he stepped in she carefully smiled with her perfectly red lips, placed a foot over his before hauling back and landing the perfect jawbreaker. The loudmouth slammed into the ground just as Colonel Philips arrived.

 

“Agent Carter,” he said politely.

“Colonel Philips,” she replied turning to salute him.

“I can see you are breaking in the candidates, that’s good. They are going to need every inch of discipline we can hammer home.”

He marched from the jeep he had arrived in to stand level with Agent Carter, giving her a neat nod. A snap of his fingers had Private Seath scurrying back into place. He glared down at the man on the floor.

“Private Hodge, get your ass out of the dirt and stand in that line at attention till someone comes tell you what to do.”

As Hodge leapt to his feet the Colonel looked down the line and almost imperceptibly flinched when his eyes passed over Steve.

“General Patton, has said that wars are fought with weapons but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best men…” He paused as he stepped in front of Steve, then after a moment, and a glance at the doctor from the recruitment tent, continued, “…and they are going to get better. You are part of the SSR. The Special Scientific Reserve, You have all been selected because you have something unique that this army can mould. Our goal is to create the best army in history, every army starts with one man. At the end of this week Dr Erskine will pick that man.”

The colonel pointed to the doctor leaning against the jeep, “He will be the first in a new line of soldiers…”

As the Colonel droned on about ‘extensive weeding out’ and ‘no shame in joining the regular army’, Steve let what was left of his damaged senses expand.

His hearing was already pressed to its limits to pick up every word the Colonel said and the damage to his sight left him barely able to make out the men running along the tree line. But the solid scent of pine filled his nose over the musk of too many men in too little space and the sweet hint of the Agent’s perfume. A hint of salt flooded his tongue from the distant ocean. Even with all his senses open he only felt Agent Carter’s prod to his shoulder like a normal man would, the Guide’s touch barely registering on his fever damaged nerves.

As he turned and followed the others towards the barracks he pressed at the edges of his mental field only to find it as barren as ever. A burned out wasteland surrounded by thick, dome-like walls. Tugging his attention back to the real world, Steve quickly made his bed with the supplies dumped on top of it, and hurried to the mess.

\- - -

The week crawled by in a haze of exhaustion and pain. Rifle practice left Steve covered in deep bruises, climbing ropes left his hands barely able to open beyond a claw, joints swollen and stiffened. After he had spent three hours crawling under wire, finishing just to be sent back to do it again until his rifle stayed out of the mud, it was impossible to walk without a limp. His back pulling and hips aching.

“Just give up, Rogers. Crawl home and do your bit fetching water for the girls in the munitions factory. You know, something nice an easy,” Hodge hissed as he helped Steve limp to the infirmary after a sharply worded order from Agent Carter.

“Just a soon as you do, meathead.” Steve gritted into the other man’s ear, breath rasping, as he was dropped onto the bed in Erskine’s office.

Hodge glared at him before turning, neatly saluting the doctor and leaving. Erskine carefully chucked the familiar inhaler at Steve before turning to prep an injection, the motions already routine after 4 days of practice. Erskine frowned at Steve’s skinny form as he took the asthma treatment.

Steve shut his eyes and gripped the edge of the bed as the medicine hit him with a wave of vertigo. He felt Erskine tug at his tee shirt before a sharp pinch warned him that a second wave was on its way. He gripped the bed tightly waiting for the worst of the floaty, dizzying sensation to pass.

The doctor hummed, poked and prodded Steve through a series of tests before reminding him to eat more and sending him on his way.

Steve slowly tipped himself off the bed and wavered on his feet for a second before straightening up and breathing deeply.

“Wish I’d had this stuff a few years ago, doc. Coulda got a good job if I could of breathed.”

Erskine laughed as he guided him to the office door. “Well, if all goes well we will not be needing this in a few days.”

Steve picked his way across the camp with careful steps. Pushing the door open softly and catching it before it fell shut with a slam, he crossed the barracks quietly so as not to disturb those already sleeping, the regime enough to wear a health man thin. He stopped at the end of the space where his bed ought to be and just looked at it resignedly. With a tired snort he marched back the way he had come, sure that he knew where his bed would be, planning to just collect the blankets and sleep on the floor. As he stepped out of the building he heard something being slid across the door.

Closing his eyes he took three deep breaths before walking across the camp to the middle of the parade ground. He gritted his teeth and slid into bed.

“Well I hope it doesn’t rain” he muttered as he tugged the blanket up to his ears.

\- - -

“Grenade!” The shout echoed around the slight basin the camp sat in.

Men ran to clear the area, vehicles moved and medics assembled just outside of the expected blast radius, tucked behind vehicles and buildings.

Steve leapt without thinking, pure Sentinel instinct driving him to make one final act of defence, even for a tribe that had not earned his trust. Stubbornness was what kept him there when it didn’t explode straight away.

“Get Clear!” he yelled twisting to create a better barrier between the grenade and those stood too close.

Agent Carter and the Colonel stayed watching, too close for his body to shield.

“All clear, dummy grenade,” the Colonel declared without looking away from Steve, his look making Steve’s skin twitch.

“Is this a test?” Steve gasped as Agent Carter stepped forward and guided him to his feet.

“You know I didn’t get your fascination, doctor…” the Colonel said as he slid into the idling jeep.

As they drove away Steve heard the doctor say, “Strength of body does not create a strength of mind and that strength of rightness? That cannot be taught.”

Agent Carter kept hold of his hand for a moment and treated him to a rare smile. “Well, I guess I will be picking you up in the morning. We have a rather important event to get you to.”

“Yes, Ma’am” he replied quietly as she walked off, leaving him to stand in the middle of the parade ground with the dummy grenade at his feet. Behind him he could hear her telling the rest of the men to pack up.

The silence of the barracks that night was haunting, the scent of old sweat and the taste of stale hormones lingered.

 

Steve woke with the talk Erskine had given him the night before echoing in his head. As he dressed he tried to remember the stages of the procedure that Erskine had mentioned, but the long recitation of medical jargon was half remembered, and the order had muddled during the night. By the time Agent Carter had arrived Steve had resolved to bite his tongue and let them prod him to where they needed him.

The car ride passed in a blur. By time they reached Brooklyn nerves had won, and even Carter’s presence wasn’t soothing him as a Guide normally would, he babbled to fill the silence.

“That’s where I met Bucky. Punched him right in the face for being mean to Lucy Schaller. He caught my hand after I hit him and told me I felt nice. I made his nose bleed so I took him home to my mom and he just never left!”

Carter smiled but didn’t comment.

“Mark Batter broke my nose for the first time right… there! Oh, that’s where I asked Georgie Cole to the school dance and everyone swore she came online, right at that moment, just so she could punch me good and proper.”

The car drew to a slow stop and Agent Carter rested a hand on Steve’s arm.

“We’re here.”

She slid out of the car, graceful and lithe, Steve rushed to catch up as she ducked into a shop and neatly negotiated the long series of guards and code phrases. Steve followed her blindly until he stuttered to a halt at the overwhelming whiteness, loudness and the piercing scent of disinfectant.

“Private Rogers? Steve.”

Steve took a long blink and realised that Carter was stood toe to toe with him. She kept a firm hand on his wrist as she led him to where Erskine was standing. Erskine peered at him worriedly, before instructing him to undress to his undershorts.

As he undressed Steve looked at the scientists and frowned when he spotted Stark hovering near a console, thoughts of falling cars chasing around his mind.

 

When Carter had to peel away to stand in the observation booth the doctor took over the firm, grounding grip and led him to the strange metal tube that lay in the centre of the room. He finally let go to prepare a hypo, and Steve fisted his hand to press his nails into his palm. The faint stab of a needle in his arm was followed by the harsh, sharp press of long needles set on pads pressing into his chest.

Erskine nodded at him and a burning pain spread through him, the sensation oddly similar to his lungs closing, and Steve choked for breath as the tube closed over him.

He expected the pain to fade but it grew; grew until it felt like his bones were ripping through skin; muscles tearing and ripping; light searing his eyes; skin wrenching apart and repairing in seconds.

Through the pain and over the sound of his own screams he heard someone shouting for them to stop and Steve yelled,  
“No! Keep going. I can take it.”

The pain and the light intensified, and Steve finally clenched his eyes shut muttering, “I can take it. I can take… I can take it…” over and over. The light faded but the pain carried on growing, even as the tube hissed open.

Hands tugged him from the tube, someone was saying his name, “Steve, you can stop now. It’s done.” Her voice breaking.

Through the waves of pain he saw flashes of his mother running through Sentinel settling exercises with Bucky, the angle off somehow but he slowly followed the calm words until finally he could brave opening his eyes.

Above him he heard one of the Generals mutter, “Dear God! You made him a Sentinel.”  
“He was always a Sentinel. I just made him the body he needed.” Erskine said calmly, proudly.

Steve carefully looked around tilting his head when he realised that Stark had place himself as far from Steve as he could get, even as everyone else pressed in close.

 

A gunshot rang out and even as Steve twitched forwards Erskine fell.

Newly sharp eyes caught a movement and strong arms hauled him onto the railing. Steve launched himself into the air, instinct driving him forwards as he leapt an impossible distance through the glass pane of the observation booth. As his feet hit the ground Steve growled. A burst of speed took him through a door and down the corridor. He reached the shop front as the assassin shot the Agent acting as doorkeeper. The scent of blood coated Steve’s tongue and he launched forward even as the assassin realised he was there.

\- - -

Steve flinched, his eyes opened and he found himself sitting on blood drenched floorboards as agents calmly cleaned around him. He shivered at the chill of drying blood on his skin. Steve glanced up as a shadow fell over him, and even as Georgie Cole held a hand out warningly he took a deep breath and gagged. Soft hands and familiar scent lifted him off the ground even as he threw up on himself.

“Don’t do it, Steve. Just shut your eyes and let me take ya home kid. Hush, I got ya,” she whispered.

His old tormenter snarled when an agent tried to stop her taking him. She guided him out of the mess and through the familiar lanes, tucking him tight against her and leading him into his tenement.

She tugged him into the shared washroom and carefully washed him down. As she scrubbed him dry with her undershirt she growled at the agents and soldiers who got too close. Pulling him up the stairs she kicked a brick out of the way to collect the key and slowly pushed him into his apartment. She set herself in the doorway and when he looked at her, lost and sense-dumb, she just pointed him at the bed.

Steve crawled into the bed and with a relieved moan wrapped himself in Home. Years of scent were layered onto the bed, the linens fresh and slept in by only one person. It had been a treat, a reward for coming home. Steve burrowed impossibly further into the blankets and muttered “Bucky…” even as he was lulled to sleep.

The local pack leader at the door…

His territory firmly safe…

The scent of his one steadfast filling his senses…

He slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve curled his fingers into the stretched tight undershirt as he waited for the doctors to prod him over to the next exam. Colonel Philips was leaning by the door, arms folded and his ever-present frown particularly deep, as he waited for the doctors to declare themselves done.

"Sir, do you know what my orders will be? I'm hoping I can head to the front with the rest of the SSR." Steve eventually asked when the last of the doctors left.

"Huh, well I was hoping for an army, I got one fragile attempt at a super soldier who can't go ten minutes without needing his blankie and cuddle from a Guide." Colonel Philips grated out in reply.

"If we could just get out to the 107s I'm sure I'd be fine." Steve said for the hundredth time since waking up from his two-day nap.

"Sure, but you know the rules as well as me, son. Can't bond, can't fight. Now maybe your boy makes it home for some leave and it all works out hunky dory but I can't risk taking an unbonded sentinel, with a history of extreme feral episodes to the front.” Philips sighed before pushing off the wall to pat Steve on the shoulder as he continued, “Now, the scientists are bored of you and I’ve been told they have a sample of every damn thing they can think of so you'll be working for the senator.” Philips looked uncomfortable at the thought of whatever the senator had planned before nodding at Steve. As He left the room he paused to say,  
“Report to Fort Hamilton at 0600."

“A couple of months proving I’m gonna be an asset out there and they let me go right?” Steve muttered to himself before dropping back on to the bed behind him as a doctor slipped through a side door with yet another blood draw kit.

\- - -

" I'm thinking Admiral America....Hmm, maybe that would be too hard for people to relate too. Sargent States? No, no, too.... Major 'Merica? Well, I guess it sounds good with his accent but too... slum to expect the President to say."

The senator threw out catchy names and insults like they were one and the same as he circled Steve.

Steve watched him for a moment until, finally tired of the hours of waiting and debating, he quietly suggested, " How about, well if you don't mind the suggestion, Captain America."

The entire room stopped and turned to look at him for the first time since he arrived. The senator snapping his fingers and giving Steve an assessing look as he thought about it.

"Captain America... I like it, the rank isn't too high but makes you sound like you have a bit of an education in war. We'll have to do something about that accent though. Silva, book one of those voice coaches to come in." The senator shouted as he began to walk away and as he walked out of the room he bellowed, " COSTUME!"

A youngish looking woman stood from the benches out in the corridor, picked up a large bag and quickly made her way into the room. She pulled out half a dozen different costumes and laid them out.

" Pick one, put it on and then stand still if you don't want a pin somewhere uncomfortable," she said in a weary tone.

Steve slowly peeled off his uniform until he was stood in just his, non-regulation, under things.

"Undershirt as well. They told me you were a Sentinel and I know my job. No sharp seams, all nice and lined."

Steve quietly pulled off Bucky's tee shirt and carefully wrapped it in his shirt so it wouldn't collect any other scents. He quickly picked the only costume that didn't involve shorts and tights and tugged it on. The woman looked at him for a moment before walking out of the room and coming back with a thin middle aged man. After a hushed discussion they both turned to look at Steve.

"Lift your arms above your head. Good, now lift your leg as high as you can."

Another hushed discussion took place after the man's instructions. The woman reached into his waist band and tugged something tighter, Steve flinched at her touch but bit back the squeak that tried to break free. The man tilted his head and ordered Steve to stretch again.

The costume cut the stretches short and the woman huffed, "Modesty be damned man, nice try but let's get you in tights." She held out the shortest and tightest of the remaining costumes and quietly waited for him to change. He wrestled his way into the thick tights and pulled on the slightly too big jacket.

"Dear lord, woman, I hope you made shorts to go with that! I don't quite think that was what the Senator meant when he said 'give it a cut to draw in the crowds' " The older man laughed.

Steve quickly grabbed the shorts, tugging them on quickly only to finally give in and whine when they got stuck half way up his thighs.

Eventually the man, who turned out to be the director for the USO tours, and the woman were content and released him. Finally dressed back in his own clothes and with strict orders to find some food, Steve slunk off to find a quiet spot to eat the sandwiches he had wrangled out of the mess staff.

Sitting in the late evening shadows at the back of a building looking out over Brooklyn, Steve slowly calmed his mind and reached out to slip in to his mental field. The usual burnt-out landscape had patches of green blooming through the char. The large, fire-ruined tree at the centre had fresh bark busting out to cover the seeping wounds that had been there for as long as Steve could remember.

Steve prowled through the field until he reached where there had once been thick black walls, he put a hand up to the barrier that sheltered him from the rest of the world. The impenetrable dark had faded and through the now milky walls he could see another field butted against his, a deep, but narrow gulf keeping them separate.

Steve leant against the barrier, expecting it to hold solid under him, only to find that instead it bent and supported his weight as he lent over the gulf to peer into the field. In the distant centre of the field was a bright tree covered in flowers, the field more of a meadow blooming with wildflowers. Ivy grew in bright and exotic colour over the edge of that field's side of the gulf, reaching out to Steve's side, tips burnt where it had touched the old barrier.

Letting his senses spread over the field Steve heard a gentle and familiar sleepy huff and made his sight follow his hearing until he spotted dark hair and pale skin curled in a soft nest of grass.

Steve pulled back slightly remembering his mother's muttered remarks about, 'Souls rest only when the body is so tired that only strength of spirit has driven the meat onwards.' And 'you'll sleep true tonight, James. Not even a dream to disturb you when your soul sleeps in your field.' Muttered sayings whispered on the days when Bucky had spent more hours than was fair nursing Steve through his latest illness, soothing him with his Guide gifts as another sense was stolen from him.

As he watched Bucky's soul sleep Steve quietly wondered what had worn his friend so thin; physical exhaustion or caring for another Sentinel.

\- - -

Steve endured the USO tour with gritted teeth, as the promise of being allowed to go to Europe if he could prove his control was dangled in front of him at every turn. Months of standing in front of brilliant lights and walking off stage into pitch black taught him how to keep tight control on his vision; holding screaming babies in the press of a thick crowds to control scent, taste and sound.

The one thing he was pandered with was soft clothing, smooth bedclothes and Sentinel safe soap in the laundry. The Senator was not willing to risk his star being off the stage because of a skin reaction.

And yet of all the new senses for Steve to lose himself in it was always scent that would send him drifting away, chasing the fading smell of Bucky on the few undershirts he had snuck into his pack.

After touring almost all of the states they drew to a halt in LA. The next leg of the tour was being planned as they made half a dozen films staring Steve as the dashing young Captain risking his life to 'Bring the boys home safe', and 'Save the good old American way!'

Every time he passed the tour manager's room in the hotel Steve knocked on the door and reminded him that the guys overseas deserve a visit. By the time they had finished the third film the manager had taken to simply shouting, "I know! You want to go to Europe!" through the door at him before muttering about crazed Sentinels making terrible actors.

At the end of the sixth and final film Steve arrived at the manager's door to find an envelope pinned to it. Peeling it open Steve grinned; a two-month tour of Europe had finally been approved. The flier in the envelope simply read. "Captain America: Off to visit our boys!"

\- - - -

Boats were hell, Steve decided as his stomach lurched and he swallowed nausea down. The slim dancer next to him quickly bounced out of her seat and dashed for the cupboard the company had named 'Vomitville'. The storm showed no sign of breaking and Steve showed no sign of adapting as the days rolled on. Three days at sea found him lying on the floor pressed into a corner in the hope that his senses would adapt and it would stop feeling like the world was rocking apart.

The one Guide in the dance troupe sat pressed against him carefully trying to soothe him with her mild gifts. Only once did Steve attempt to find refuge by crawling into his mental field. The sensation of being still while his body was rocked by the ocean left him shaking and even more off balance for days.

Hitting land felt like exactly that, as the boat crashed into the dock with a bone-shaking blow and even after crawling off the boat Steve had to curl up on the floor of the truck as the world refused to still. He pulled his kitbag close and tried to immerse himself in the long since faded scent of Bucky, whining to himself when it didn't work. He settled for simply burying his head in the clothes and waiting for it all to end.

When they arrived at the camp Steve let himself be tugged out of the truck by the dancers and tucked into a narrow, hard cot. The camp medic firmly assuring the tour manager that, ‘Some Sentinels simply fail to cope with a lack of solid ground’, and that Steve would be fine after a few hours of quiet.

Carefully trying to settle himself and with the ground finally solid and still beneath him Steve slipped into his mind field and pressed against the barrier between his field and Bucky's. He tiredly grinned when he realised the gulf had closed to the point where a deep but narrow gap remained. He searched the field hoping to call out to the other man but while Bucky's field was empty, fresh white flowers bloomed at the base of the tree and Steve grinned when he spotted them.

Steve woke to find a covered plate of food dumped beside him and ate like a starving man. A note under the glass of water reminded him they had a show in the evening. Checking his watch Steve realised he still had time to relax and sitting back he slipped back into his mind field to look for Bucky.

Walking through his field Steve noticed the first wild flowers growing out of the last patches of char. Crouching to inspect them he found they were delicate, thin-stemmed things, still low to the ground and nowhere near ready to bloom. He paused by the wall to Bucky's field, his attention caught by the sensation that something was out of place. He frowned as he tried to find the source of the difference, his attention slowly drawn to the tree. Eyes widening he realised that the white flowers surrounding the tree were fallen petals. The boughs were stripped clean of flowers, the leaves limp and withered and the ends of branches drooping towards the floor. Leaning forward Steve realised that the grass around the tree was flattened, limp and dying. Ripping himself from the field with a gasp Steve surged to his feet and raced through the camp.

He slid to a halt in front of a Private, who neatly saluted at him, stared at the young man for a moment and then barked. "Where is the CO's tent?"

"Umm, down this road, Sir, it's the open sided tent with maps," the young man stuttered holding the salute as Steve ran off.

Steve skidded slightly as he reached the tent and sharply stopped. Walking into the tent he straightened up sharply, surprised to find that Colonel Philips was sitting at a desk looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Sir, Do you know where the 107s are posted?" Steve gasped finally deciding not to bother with convention.

The other man looked at him and sighed, "You and the damn 107s, Rogers." The other man stood from his chair and moved to lean on the other side of his desk close to where Steve stood. "What's left of the 107s is waiting to watch your show,” he said softly. “Not that they want to buy bonds but it comes with the promise of pretty girls dancing." The Colonel shrugged.

"What's left... I..." Steve stuttered not even sure what he wanted to ask.

"They ran into some trouble with Hydra out in the forest. What was your boy's name?" The colonel almost managed to sound as sympathetic as he did tired.

"Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes. B A R..."

"I can spell!" The colonel snapped, "I'm sorry, Rogers, the name's familiar," the man searched through a pile of letters next to a typewriter, finally pulling one from the pile and handing it to Steve. He dropped back down into his desk chair and politely ignored the way Steve's breath hitched as he read the letter.

"He's not dead, sir. What's the plan to rescue them?" Steve asked desperately, leaning over the desk in his desire for the colonel to understand.

The colonel looked up at Steve and laughed a little brokenly. "Winning the war. That’s the plan to rescue them. They were 20 miles deep in forest when they were ambushed, and even if they are alive the nearest Hydra base is another 30 miles of heavily defended forest beyond. Now all you can do is go pull your tights on and put on a show to raise moral."

Steve bit back the urge to snarl something that would most likely get him court marshalled and politely nodded before walking out of the tent.  
He walked clean across the camp and climbed up into the backstage. Carefully picking though his costume he grabbed the costume top and the shield before sorting through the box of spares for the thicker dark blue trousers that had been packed in case of bad weather. Tugging the collection of items on and sliding his leather jacket over the top Steve started to leave. As he reached the top of the stairs he stopped, walked back a few paces and with a grin grabbed one of the dancers helmets. Just as he dumped all his gear into a jeep he caught a familiar sweet scent and turned to find Agent Carter watching him.

"Going somewhere, Captain?" She asked softly, fingers drumming on the trunk.

"I can't leave them. Those men are still alive, Carter. Something terrible is happening to them but they are alive!" he said quickly, words tripping over themselves to explain.

"Well, if you really want to do this then you are going to need to get a little close and a little faster than that jeep will allow."

"Well, Ma'am, a jeep is what I've got."

"Ahh but I know a man with a plane," she said with a grin, motioning for him to follow her.

Agent Carter quickly shoved him into the tiny plane that sat at the edge of the camp and even as he settled himself into a seat it took off.

As they levelled off the pilot turned to look at him and said, "Well, look who it is. Damn we did a good job of making you fine! I could spend a whole night teaching you all sorts of things." For all Stark’s words were lascivious his tone was standoffish and his body language warned Steve to keep his distance.

Steve grimaced even as Agent Carter sighed, "Really, Stark! Could you concentrate on flying, please?"

With a shrug and a mouthed 'later' to Steve, Stark turned back to his flying. Carter carefully helped Steve pull a parachute on and talked him through using it.

Just as she finished explaining for the second time Stark quietly said, “You’re up, Cap."

Steve slid pulled the door open and carefully angled himself at the forest floor. He let go and quickly began to count the seconds as he fell through the air. When he hit ten he pulled the cord and tried to steer away from the trees. Failing miserably he crashed straight into a tree, a series of ripping sounds letting him know the parachute was dead. He crashed into the ground painfully, but forced himself to his feet and after glancing at the silk tangled in the branches he dumped the pack and started to run through the forest.

The base loomed in the distance, more of an old fashioned fort than a modern Army camp. Circling the place once, Steve spotted a gap in the patrol and quickly climbed the wall. Crouching low on the roof he moved towards a series of glass panels built into the roof. Through them he could see a narrow walkway suspended over a series of cages.

He carefully pried one of the panes off and slid it across the roof. He listened closely, pushing his hearing out until he was confident that no guards were about to walk through the unusual prison. With a careful twist he dropped through the hole and down onto the walkway, landing with an almost silent thud.

Silently he crept along the walkway until he was above one of the cages. Dangling his feet off the edge he lowered himself down so he was perched on the narrow rails that made up the roof.

“Bloody hell! Who are you meant to be?” A British Major asked in a surprisingly calm voice as he stared up at Steve.

“Captain America.” Steve said with a shrug before holding a finger to his lips and slinking to the edge of the cage. The guard he had heard paused at the cage Steve stood on top of as one of the men stuck his hand out. Steve tucked the shield under his feet as he jumped. The guard crumpled to the ground, keys snatched from his belt before they could rattle on the floor, shield back in Steve’s hand so he could land on his feet. As the men in the cage stared at him in shock Steve unlocked the door and pressed the keys into the Major’s hand.

“Sir, I think you should get these men moving.” Steve said calmly, words just forceful enough to get the man stepping forward.

“Captain America, you said? Bloody stupid name, Captain,” he said as Steve started inspecting the men still locked in cages, searching every face.

“Rogers. It’s Rogers really.” Steve yelled over the noise, he reached the last cage and started asking, “Anyone seen a James Barnes? Sargent Barnes from the 107?”

“Well, Captain Rogers,” the Major shouted as he unlocked another cage, “we’ll meet you on the road. There was a chap from the 107 with us, a Guide? Dark hair? Right. They took him through to the back. I’ll wish you the best of luck but no one has ever been returned.”

He stepped in close to unlock the last cage and, in a terribly British moment, offered Steve a hand. “Major Falsworth. See you on the other side, Captain!”

With a firm shake Steve raced off deeper into the compound, smashing Hydra soldiers in odd armour into the walls as he ran. As he ran he carefully focused on reaching for Bucky’s mental field, letting an awareness of Bucky flood him, desperately hoping that it would help him find his friend.

The walls of the compound almost blurred as he powered towards the faintest hint of Bucky on the furthest edges of his mind. In the far distance a siren went off and almost instantly the halls emptied and doors started to slam as Hydra soldiers flooded into the courtyard of the compound.

Steve powered past a doorway, hand slamming out sideways to catch the doorframe as he flung himself backwards. He twisted and burst through the door. Everything ‘Bucky’ was overpowering in that first second, scent and taste flooding him. He exploded forward and tore the restraints off Bucky before dropping down to lean over the other man worriedly.

Bucky’s eyes flickered open and he muttered, “Sentinel?” in a confused little voice.

“Bucky!” Steve almost shouted as he carefully pulled Bucky up to sit on the edge of the table before wrapping him in a hug,

“I thought you were…” Bucky mumbled into Steve’s shoulder as Steve buried his head into Bucky’s neck.

“I thought you were dead.” Steve cut across him before he could finish.

Bucky poked him in the ribs and finally said, “… shorter?” Bucky’s eyes flickered shut and he tried to lie down muttering, “… wish you’d stop getting my hopes up like that… I know you ain’t real, dunno why I made you so big you were never that big.” Bucky mumbled as he fought Steve weakly.

After a moment his eyes flickered open again, “Steve? Time to go home, Stevie. War isn’t the place for you. Go on, ‘m right behind ya”

Steve looked into the glazed eyes of his friend before wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist as the other man tired to stand up. Bucky slid to his feet and as he did Steve’s arm caught on the torn edge of his shirt, making it ride up. Steve’s hand pressed against the chilled skin of Bucky’s stomach. They both gasped and Bucky twisted, eyes clear and wide as he looked up and whispered, “Steve?”

“Yeah, I know Bucky…” Steve pulled him closer and, taking most of the other man’s weight, started tugging him towards the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Bucky slowly lent into him so Steve lent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, pulling back and wrinkling his nose as the taste of many days worth of sweat and muck seeped over his tongue. In his arms Bucky rolled his head back to look at Steve, and with a grin the tired man started laughing.

\- - -

Sobriety hit hard three corridors after he had started laughing; more hysteria than actual amusement. His head ached and his legs protested at the idea of running any further. As they staggered down another corridor Bucky became aware that through the usual pain of a beating he could feel an odd burning deep in his muscles, slowly spreading from where the scientist has injected him. “Zola…” he muttered to himself, rolling the name on his tongue. It felt familiar but he couldn’t remember why.

Steve twisted to look at him, “What?”

“What happened to you?” he quickly asked to deflect away from his mumblings,

“I joined the army.” Steve said with a grin,

“Did it hurt?”

“A little.”

Bucky huffed at the lie and lent against the wall as Steve carefully scouted ahead. Waiting for Steve to come back he pressed out with his gifts only to end up leaning forwards gasping in agony, one hand pressed to his head. Under his hand a deep bruise ached, Bucky frowned trying to remember when he hit his head but only remembering pressure and sudden pain.

“Buck?” A hand wrapped around his arm and Bucky quickly looked up with a reassuring grin. He let Steve lead him further out of the complex for a while.

“Is it permanent?” he asked, not sure if he could cope if someone could take this away.

“So far…” Steve trailed off and at the flick of his hand Bucky flattened himself against the wall. Bucky watched in amazement as Steve effortlessly flung himself through a wild attack before dropping the soldier in front of him off the walkway they were on. “Looks like this is the only place to cross.”

Bucky looked at the long walkway joining the two sides of the compound and shrugged. Motioning for Steve to go first he walked to lean on the railing near the end of the walkway.

Halfway across Steve turned around and shouted, “All waiting on you, Sargent,” in a slightly mocking tone.

For a second Bucky expected to see a 5 foot 4 asshole and had to close his eyes and shake his head to clear the image.

“Oh no, Captain America, you are quite wrong. You see the whole world has been waiting on you.” Bucky watched in horror as Steve span to face the man who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Panic flooded Bucky as he fought the urge to curl up and crawl away. When he had finally got a grip on the fear, he looked up to see the scientist who had experimented on him standing behind the terrifying man. The small man stared at Bucky until suddenly Steve yelled in pain.

Bucky flinched and realised that the two men on the bridge were fighting, Steve already flat on his back as the shield tumbled from his grip and off the bridge. As Steve finally managed to get back to his feet and land a blow on the other man, the walkway began to sway.

“So, Erskine, managed it. Not an improvement as such but still…” The man looked at Steve appraisingly. Bucky realised with horror that the man’s face seemed to be slowly melting away from the muscle. Both men suddenly looked up as a loud crack filled the air and the bridge finally lurched to the side. They leapt off the bridge and Bucky grabbed Steve as he landed next to him, unnecessarily trying to steady him.

“You have no idea, do you?” the man taunted.

“Haven’t I?” Steve shouted back tilting his chin up, Bucky found the energy to grin at the familiar move,

“You see, no matter the lies the Doctor told you. I was his greatest success!” Bucky watched as the man opposite them reached up and slowly tugged the loosening skin off revealing what appeared to be a bloody skull. “As long as you refuse to admit that we have left humanity behind; that we have evolved and become greater, you will never match the power of Red Skull. So I will forever be his defining creation!”

At Red Skull’s side the scientist pulled on the monster’s sleeve and tugged him towards some stairs.

Bucky lent against the railing, head down, panting until finally, rolling his head on the railing so he could look at Steve, he asked, “Haven’t got one of those, do you?”

Steve just looked at him wide eyed and shook his head slowly.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Bucky said with a groan, shoving himself upright.

Silently Steve pointed at a thin beam, the remains of the bridge. Bucky looked at the thin beam, down at the two storey drop to the compound floor and then at the doorway that lead out in to the night. He looked at Steve for a minute, mouth open like he planned to speak until eventually, “Do you secretly hate me?” burst out of his mouth.

Steve smirked at him and murmured, “I really don’t, and that is why you get to go first.”

“So much love…” Bucky whined as he climbed onto the beam. Dropping to hands and knees he quickly scurried across. As he reached the other side the beam suddenly gave an almighty creak. Bucky threw himself at the railing just as the beam disappeared from under his feet. Hauling himself on to the walkway he stared at Steve in dismay.

Steve started to back up and realising what he was about to do, Bucky yelled for him to stop even as Steve launched himself through the air. When Steve neatly landed in front of him Bucky just looked at him in shock and kicked him in the shin.

“Ass!” Bucky yelled. Steve, the dick, just laughed.

Slowly they worked their way out of the compound, climbing over the tank-torn ground and the dead soldiers that littered the path the escapees had taken. As they climbed over the remains of the gate, Bucky let his eyes slip shut for a moment. When he opened them they were sitting in a clearing in the forest, a bowl of something in his hands, Steve mid conversation beside him and a headache pounding through his head. Fear and confusion flooded him and he started gasping for air. Quickly he placed the tin bowl on the ground so he could rest his arms on his knees and let his head hang before half whispering,  
“Steve?”

His friend turned to look at him, a frown settling over his face. “Hey, I didn’t give you that hot so that you could eat it cold! Don’t make me feed you. You know I will.” Steve muttered as the man he had been talking to moved away to speak to someone else.

“I don’t… How did we get here?”

Steve frowned at him before gently brushing soft fingers over the bruising on Bucky’s face. The touch grounded him, as familiar emotions weakly pressed against him.

“Huh, that must be worse than we thought. Buck, we walked, we just walked here.” Worry tinged Steve’s voice as he ducked to look into Bucky’s eyes, frown deepening.

“‘M tired” he muttered leaning forward to rest on Steve, moaning when he realised that he could really cuddle in. He heard the faint clank of cheap tin before a spoon was brushed over his lips. Obediently he opened his mouth and let Steve feed him, years of practice the other way around leaving it a series of easy moves and murmured familiar words.

Eventually a hand brushed over his hair and Steve gently wormed his jacket open and tucked Bucky right in next to him. As Bucky hummed contently he felt Steve’s chest rumble under his head. He silently hoped he was talking about him and not to him. The hand continued to brush over his hair and, finally warm for the first time in days, Bucky let himself drift.

\- - - -

The vehicles they had stolen turned out to be too damaged and too easy to track, the Major quickly gave the order to abandon them. Only one truck, painted deep green, was kept so the most injured could ride. Steve watched Bucky carefully as the man stumbled blankly on step after step as they slowly crawled towards the base, the forced march leaving everyone exhausted. Every time Steve offered an arm he was shrugged away, the offers of riding in the rumbling truck were rejected. Steve prowled along side his friend watching with worry as every few miles Bucky seemed to drift away, eyes going a little dead as though he was shielding his mind, only a mile later to shudder and glance around in confusion.

Rain fell heavily, just as it had done since they stopped the night before and through the entire day as they marched. The ground was slick underfoot, and even Steve’s jacket had given up under the weight of water. Bucky shivered back into his skin once more just as a shout went up from further down the group. Steve quickly let himself drop back and found one of the men being helped back to his feet.

Catching the Major’s eye Steve fell into step next to the more experienced soldier, “We’re going to have to stop.” Steve muttered quietly, keeping his gaze locked on Bucky’s back, worried that something would happen if he looked away.

“I recognise this patch of forest. Patrols come out this far, I’m sure we can’t be far from the base.” Major Falsworth replied softly.

Steve glanced around at the men, “Everyone is exhausted, hungry and soaked to the bone. I don’t think we can push any further.”

“If we stop we run the risk of Hydra catching up. Stopping last night was stupid, stopping tonight would be bloody stupid. We can’t be more than a hour away at this speed. And it’s not like we have any food left.”

“What if I run ahead, see if I can get some trucks out here?”

“In this piss down? We’re practically marching through a bog, what use do you think trucks are going to be?” Falsworth said grinning.

Steve looked at him and shrugged, dropping into a thick Brooklyn accent he muttered, “Well, I figured under this muck there had to be something hard.” He opened his eyes wide, “I ain’t never seen muck so thick you could lose a truck in it!”

Falsworth laughed, a tinge of hysteria slipping in, and reached up to smack Steve on the back of the head. “Lord, save me from city boys!” Ahead of them Bucky staggered sideways out of the march and slumped to sit on the ground. “ Half an hour. We stop for half an hour, Captain, and then we get moving again,” he said as Steve started to run up the line.

Tugging Bucky close, Steve winced at the chill of the other man’s skin. He quickly slid his jacket off and pulled it over Bucky’s shoulders, prodding him to slide his arms into the sleeves. Carefully he slid his hands over Bucky’s and started to rub warmth into them. After a moment Bucky slid his legs over Steve’s lap and curled up, arms wrapped around him. Around them men dropped to sit in the churned mud of the path they were following, too tired to even bother looking for a patch of solid ground. They sat wrapped around each other in the gloom.

Slowly Steve became aware of a familiar press on the edges of his mind. Glancing down he realise Bucky seemed clear-headed, tired but aware. Reaching into his mind field he focused on the edges where their fields met, the grass on Bucky’s side was still flattened, the tree still bare but ivy was once again creeping towards the barrier between them. The time raced by and Bucky continued to cling even as Steve lifted him back to his feet and guided him back to the path as the sun set, the last of the light fading from the forest.

The rain continued through the night, the dark a blessing as it kept them hidden from sight, but a curse as they stumbled blindly along what they hoped was the right path.

As the sun rose Steve let out a cheer, shouting along the line, “I can see the camp! Just a few miles ahead.” A few faint whoops rose from the line of men and a second wind seemed to strike.

“Steve?” Bucky said quietly without lifting his head from where it rested against Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve muttered pressing a kiss to the top of the other man’s head.

“I’m gonna sleep for a week. An’ then you are going to tell me every single stupid thing you did.”

“Sure thing, eat something first though.” Steve said softly.

Bucky lifted his head and in an almost reverential tone muttered, “Awww! Food, yeah.” After a second he added, “Not a C-ration though. Please,” in a begging tone.

Looking ahead Steve simply pulled a face and said nothing. He tugged Bucky a little higher, so that he was supporting most of the other man’s weight and slowly manoeuvred them to the front of the line as the camp grew closer.

By the time everyone could see the camp they were all standing taller, marching strongly, exhaustion forgotten. They arrived at the camp to whoops of joy, the members of the 107 who had been in the camp pressing forwards to welcome their returned friends.

Medics raced forward to collect the more visibly injured soldiers and one was brave enough to head towards Bucky until Steve’s glare and rumbling, complaining, growl drove him off. A tension Steve hadn’t even noticed seeped out of Bucky as Steve tugged him closer.

Pulling his gaze away from the medic, Steve stepped forward and saluted Colonel Philips, “Sir, I surrender myself for court-martial due to my abandonment of post.”

Colonel Philips slowly let out a familiar sigh. “Somehow, I don’t think that will be necessary, Rogers.” He huffed, twitched his lips and finally said, “Good job, soldier.” With a nod to Agent Carter, the Colonel walked back to his tent.

Agent Carter simply shook her head at Steve with a grin. “Well, Captain Rogers, I think I might have to take you back to headquarters. What do you say to joining the SSR for real?” She looked him up and down, while beside him Bucky stiffened.

“I’d be honoured, Ma’am,” he replied with a grin.

Pulling away Bucky stared at Carter and shouted, “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

Steve looked at him worriedly as he almost heard Bucky tagging ‘The asshole who runs around fighting Nazis with just a shield,’ on to the end echo in his mind. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable Steve stepped towards Bucky.

“Agent Carter, I think I should let the medics fuss over my Guide for a while and then tuck him into a bunk. Excuse me.” Steve wrapped an arm over Bucky’s shoulder and carefully led him towards the medics.

“Presumptuous! Who says I even want the ridiculously huge version of my little punk?” Bucky muttered with a pout as he let Steve tow him along.

“Yeah, ‘cos I can just see you turning down the opportunity to watch me sleep without worrying that I’m gonna stop breathing.” Steve murmured, stopping just as they reached a clear space.

“I never watched you sleep. Watched you pass out from a fever a few times!” Bucky replied defensively.

Steve bent down slightly and nuzzled his chin along Bucky’s. “Fine,” he said with a grin, “Then I don’t really see you turning down getting me. All of me. Getting what you felt that day you followed me home.” Steve’s tone turned suddenly serious as he lifted his head away from Bucky’s to look at him.

“Didn’t follow you home. You stole me.”

Steve just hummed in agreement.

Bucky twisted to look him in the eye. “You could have anyone, Stevie. You don’t owe me anything, it don’t have to be me just because I’ve been your friend for forever,” Bucky said softly, hand coming to rest on Steve’s face.

Steve just smiled at him softly, leant forward to press his lips over Bucky’s and carefully slipped into his mind field.

Running across the field, Steve paused at one of the old patches of char. He looked at the delicate stem growing there, a rounded bud finally balanced on the top and he carefully plucked it from the ground. Holding it to his chest, he raced to the barrier between his field and Bucky’s. Leaning heavily on it, he pressed the closed flower forward. As he let go the flower floated, slowly starting to open before falling onto the flattened grass of Bucky’s mind. In the distance of Bucky’s garden something started to move and Steve slowly slipped away.

Keeping his eyes closed, Steve waited.

A gasp broke the stillness between the two men as Bucky pulled his lips away from Steve’s. Steve slowly opened his eyes to see Bucky holding an almost fully open flower.

“Steve…” Bucky gasped in a broken voice.

Steve reached up and cupped Bucky’s hands with his. “I love you,” he said leaning forwards to kiss Bucky properly. As their lips opened and the kiss deepened, the flower opened more.

Bucky parted his hands to slide his arms around Steve’s still narrow waist. The flower fell to the ground and set in the soil as though it had always grown there.

The petals finally fell open.

A bright Poppy blooming in the muck of war.

 


End file.
